Something Precious
by LittleMissCheerios
Summary: Something's missing in Reba's life, but she doesn't know what it is and she's not sure she can figure it out on her own. When she does though, she'll put herself through hell to fill the void. The pain, the tears, none of it will matter.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Missing. Something was missing from my life and it had been for far too long. Was it a man? No, it wasn't a man. I'd been getting along just fine without one. Was it a better job? No, for I had finally found something I was good at, something I loved. Selling real estate and flipping houses was the perfect career for me. Although, loving my job wasn't enough to keep the strain away. My days were long and tedious, seeming to never end. I became annoyed and anxious over the smallest of things, and my ex-husband's wife was a bigger annoyance than I'd ever thought humanly possible. She was constantly in my presence, day in and day out. I was beginning to wonder if she and Brock were having problems again. It was unusual for her to be around _this_ often.

Like today. It was seven thirty on a Wednesday morning and I was about to fall off my rocker.

"You've only been here for ten minutes! Stop talking, you're drivin' me crazy!" I exasperated.

"Well, Mom, look at it this way. If you're mad at Barbra Jean at least you won't be able to focus on the fact that I didn't do any of my homework or study for my test last night." My youngest, Jake, pointed out with a chuckle.

I spun around to look at him sternly. "You didn't do your homework?"

"I was playing Xbox until two." he admitted then froze and his eyes went wide. "Don't worry, I've already grounded myself." he said quickly as he snatched his backpack off the counter beside me and bolted out the door.

I gapped after him and stepped through the open kitchen door pointing my finger down the sidewalk after him. "If you don't get a least a B+ on that test you're grounded for a week, mister!" I hollered then leaned farther out the door. "And when you get home, expect all your games, your controllers, and your internet access, gone!" I shook my head as I watched him jump over a bright red, radio flyer wagon in the middle of the sidewalk and then the dog from across the street.

I felt a body towering behind me. "That kid should be in track and field."

I turned around and glared at my ex's wife. "And as for you. Go home, Barbra Jean!" I exclaimed and slapped her arm.

"Why would I go home when my very best friend is right here to spend all day with?" she asked as she wrapped her arm over my shoulders and squeezed me tight.

"Because, I don't want you here!" I exclaimed as I tried to pry her arms off me. "And I'm not your "very best friend."

"It was then they realized that—" My son-in-law began.

"Van, don't you start with that again." I grumbled. "Barbra Jean, get your hands off me!"

"Okay, geez!" she dropped her arms and sat at my kitchen table, resuming her cup of coffee.

"Well, looks like someone's in a mood. Not anyone in particular, but _someone_." Van said loudly as he piled his plate with pancake after pancake and strips of bacon.

"Van, just eat your pancakes and get your butt to work."

"What about you?"

I sighed. "I'm taking a personal day."

"Again? What for?" he asked.

I sighed again. I didn't want to tell him—or anyone for that matter—the real reason I wasn't going. "Personal reasons, Van. That's why it's called a personal day." I said.

The truth was I just didn't have the energy to get out of bed lately. I'd barely dragged myself out of bed this morning and if I hadn't had to wake Jake up for school, I wouldn't have gotten up at all.

"Alrighty then. I'll see you after work." he lightly punched my arm as he clicked his tongue and left with his briefcase in hand.

Not soon after, I found myself all alone and I was glad. I'd even coaxed Barbra Jean to leave, which took quite a bit of effort, but she was gone. Finally. I walked slowly to the couch, scuffing my feet and flopped down onto the cushions. What was wrong with me? Why couldn't I just feel as happy as I'd felt years ago? Heck, why couldn't I just feel as happy as I'd felt three weeks ago. After all the hardships I'd endured over the past few years, I deserved to be happy.

Didn't I?

I'd been starting to doubt it. I was a divorced mother of three. Five, if I counted my son-in-law and my granddaughter and I was hoping they'd move out soon, I couldn't deal with this much longer and I didn't much want to. I didn't have the patients anymore, but I couldn't ask my flaky daughter and her beloved husband to move out with my beautiful grandbaby. It'd tear me up inside if I were to throw them out on their own so soon. Granted, they were nearly twenty-four and they couldn't live with their Mama forever. Then there was Jake, my youngest, whose grades were slipping drastically. I worried everyday that he'd ask to live with his father and Barbra Jean, four houses down. At least if he stayed here he'd have his older sister Kyra to help him with his school work... if she were ever around. Her band had been taking up all her time since she'd finally decided not to go to college because she didn't want a "safety net," she wanted to follow her dream of becoming a singer. I was proud of her for that.

But, what about me? What was my dream? I used to want to become a singer, now I'd much rather see my daughter live out that dream. I didn't want to get married again. Well, I did, just not anytime soon. I wasn't ready for that commitment. I laughed, here I was thinking about marriage and commitment when I didn't even have myself a man. I mentally took a step back and looked at my life and I didn't much like what I saw. I was alone and stuck in the same old rut every same old day, with no way out.

I needed help. I desperately needed help.

I sighed and looked down, I hadn't bothered to get dressed and now here I was, in my pajamas and my old grey bathrobe, moping over the mess my once perfect life had become, with no urge to put the pieces back together. This was a broken home alright, with a broken mother who'd done gone fell apart years ago.

Reaching for the television remote I put my feet up on the coffee table and leaned back into the cushions. What was on? What could I watch?

"Desperate Housewives, really?" I sighed.

After a while I soon felt myself drifting off. How could I possibly be tired? I'd already slept for what felt like days. Faintly I could hear a baby crying. Where was Cheyenne? I didn't recall her leaving Elizabeth with me. I jolted awake. Elizabeth wasn't a baby anymore. There weren't even any babies around. I looked around disoriented, then found that the remote had been in my hand and I'd been flipping channels and had turned the volume all the way up.

Thursday when I woke up, it wasn't any different. I still didn't have the urge to move. No motivation to get up whatsoever. Maybe I could pull another personal day or a sick day. Would everyone start to wonder then? Would they start to pry? I could say I'd been feeling too stressed lately and needed a few days to relax. It wouldn't be a lie.

I could feel tears welling in my closed eyes. What was wrong with me? I hadn't been like this in years. I was wallowing in my own sadness which I couldn't even pinpoint. I lifted my hand and wiped away a tear that had escaped the corner of my eye. Why couldn't I just be happy? I had everything I could possibly want from life, yet, I still felt so empty.

This misery I was feeling in the pit of my stomach was not unfamiliar. I knew this feeling; I'd felt this exact same way when Brock and I separated. Realization swept over me and I gasped, sitting straight up in bed.

"No!" I cried as more and more tears began spilling over my cheeks. "I don't want this again."

I was relapsing. My depression, despite all my best efforts, had come back again.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

I refused to believe that I was relapsing into depression. I'd been through this once already and I didn't deserve to go through it again. It had been three days since I'd realized what was happening and every night since, I had cried myself to sleep. This wasn't like me; it wasn't like me at all. According to Van, I went through life like, "Grr, you don't scare me, I'm Reba!" and he was right, nothing scared me. Well, spiders did, but nobody needed to know I was afraid of the creepy crawly, eight legged arachnids. Except maybe Brock, who I still made squish the buggers whenever he was within shouting distance. I still didn't understand _this_ though, nothing had happened lately to cause it. It wasn't like before when there'd been a reason for my sadness. My husband and I had separated. This time I was just so…

Empty.

I sighed as I looked around my completely blackened room and wondered if the sun had set yet. I wouldn't know if it had or it hadn't if I didn't move to check the time because I'd pulled my curtains tightly together again tonight. Another headache. Lately I didn't want to see any light, headache or not. Light was a sign of life and I didn't want any signs of it anywhere near me when I didn't quite feel truly alive myself. I wanted darkness. No sunlight streaming in through my window, No beams of light glowing from the streetlamps. No headlights shining across my bedroom wall from the passing cars. Nothing.

The only way I thought I could figure things out was to take a few days off work to think, but even that proved to be a disastrous idea. Being home alone allowed me to wallow in my unhappiness and mope around the house which only made me feel worse about. I needed to keep myself busy; maybe this would pass if I did. Still, I didn't have the energy to keep myself busy and I just stayed in my pajamas on the couch eating and watching television instead. I hadn't even gone out to check the mail since I'd been off, which really didn't seem like that big of a deal, but it really was. Not going down the street to pick up the mail was only the first in a long list of petty chores that I'd been letting slip.

I hadn't cooked dinner for my family or even gone to the store to buy groceries in a week and the first couple days I asked her simply because I was too tired from work and knew she wouldn't mind. I thought after I'd left work she'd stop cooking for us, but she didn't. And I guess, for the past few days, asking Barbra Jean to cook for the kids was my solution to not cooking for them myself. I knew she could tell something was off with me when she'd taken it upon herself to do my grocery shopping for me too. Not only that, she'd been acting very unlike Barbra Jean. She'd been giving me my space. She'd been leaving me alone. Although, I suppose she had no choice when I'd been locking myself away in my room before she'd even set foot in the house. As much as it pained me to say, she did know me well enough to give me space and for that I was grateful.

Sick of looking at the ceiling in the darkness I finally gathered the energy to prop myself up and check the time. It was just after one in the morning. God, I was exhausted all day long and now my body chose to wake up? As I was reaching for my glass of water I heard footsteps coming down the hall. Wary footsteps. My door quietly opened and the light from the hallway flooded into my room. I squinted.

"Ma? Are you awake?"

I didn't want to talk, but I answered anyway. "Cheyenne, what's wrong?"

"Elizabeth had a nightmare about you and she needed to know you were alright."

I glanced down to her side to find my granddaughter sobbing with tears streaming down her face. I sat up and opened my arms and she bounded into them. "What's wrong, honey?"

"I dreamed that you was in a accident when you was coming home from work and you died." she wailed as she wrapped her little arms tightly around my neck.

My heart broke at the terror in her voice. "I'm right here, sweetie. I'm fine. I'm okay. You're okay." I murmured as I held her tight. I heard Cheyenne sniffle from the doorway. "Cheyenne, it's alright. It's just a bad dream." I said softly as Elizabeth started to calm down.

She shook her head and stumbled into my room. "I had the same dream, Mom."

"Oh, baby." I took her hand and pulled her down on the bed beside me.

"It seemed so real." she whispered.

I lay back with Cheyenne and Elizabeth curled at each of my sides, holding each of their hands in each of mine. "I know." I kissed her cheek and she moved her head to rest it against my shoulder. The three of us stayed quiet for a long time. The only sounds were my radio playing softly in beside the bed, Elizabeth's tiny hiccups for air and Cheyenne's occasional sniffle.

I squeezed Cheyenne's hand and she held on tighter. "7:21." was all she said.

"Hmm?" I asked.

Cheyenne swallowed. "The first thing she said to me when she climbed into our bed was "7:21."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Because right before I woke up, that was the time on the dash of your car in _my_ dream when two cars collided with yours in the intersection." her voice shook. "Mom, it was awful. Don't ever try to use your phone when you're driving."

"Don't worry. I won't." I chuckled.

"Mom, I'm serious. In my dream you were late coming home from work and when you were stopped at that really busy intersection you went to grab your phone to quickly call home and ask if you should pick anything up, but as you grabbed it from your purse it fell onto the floor and when you reached for it your foot came off the break and you rolled out into the intersection and—" her voice broke.

I sighed and pulled her tightly to my side. "Has this scared you enough to keep you from making calls when you're driving?" I asked. Cheyenne was terrible for texting and calling while driving.

"Yeah." she breathed. "I'm gonna put my phone in the trunk from now on, so I'm not tempted to use it."

I laughed in spite of myself.

"Mom, this is not funny."

"Oh, Cheyenne, I know. Go on, now. Take Elizabeth back to bed."

She nodded and kissed my cheek. "I love you, Mom. But promise me you'll never call us when you're driving, okay? Even if you're running late. Thank God it was a dream, I don't know what I'd do if it happened in real life."

"Goodnight, Cheyenne." I smiled shaking my head. "I love you too."

I vaguely remembered closing my eyes before Cheyenne closed the door and didn't realize I'd actually drifted off until I woke up disoriented the next morning. I was still so tired. Had I even fallen asleep last night? Did Cheyenne really come in here with Elizabeth, or had I dreamt that? Rolling over, I looked at the clock. Wasn't even noon yet. I had to get up and start acting normal, even if I didn't feel it. I had to eat. I hadn't eaten since Saturday night and I still wasn't hungry, but if I kept this up I'd start getting sick as well.

I showered quickly and then made my way downstairs and when I opened the fridge I found a dish with a note taped to it. I pulled out the dish and plucked the note off.

_Hey, Reba,  
I know you haven't been feeling 100% lately… kinda, blah. So, I made you a little something. Bon Appétit!  
—Love, Barbra Jean_

I smiled as I set the small piece of paper gently on the counter. Despite being so annoying, she really was a great friend. I pulled back the plastic wrap and inhaled. It was a desert of some sort topped with whip cream. Grabbing a plate from the cupboard I cut myself a square. Inside was chocolate and more whip cream, jelly, and graham wafer crumbs. What was this monstrosity?

"Just what I needed, Barbra Jean, more calories." I chuckled and took a bite.

I moaned, it was absolutely divine. I'd have to get the recipe! And hide this entire dish, which is exactly what I did. After I finished the plate I replaced the plastic wrap and carried it out to the freezer in the garage. Nobody would find it out here.

Now, because I was so sick of feeling "kinda blah" I had to deal with whatever was going on with me.

I dug around in my purse. "I know her card's in here somewhere." I said aloud. "Aha! There it is." Picking up the phone, I dialed the number.

"Hello, Reba! I was wondering if I was ever going to hear from you again."

"Dr. Peters, it's great to hear your voice." I smiled. I hadn't heard that voice in such a long time and it was so comforting. "You know, I was half expecting someone else to answer and tell me you'd moved." I laughed nervously.

"Now, why would I go and do that?" she chuckled. "What's up, Reba? You sound troubled."

I paused. "When's the earliest I can see you?" I asked shakily. "I think it's coming back."

I heard her inhale in understanding. "I've got an opening in about an hour."

"Thank you." I said in a small, tight voice.

"I'll see you in a bit." she said before hanging up.

My fingers clung to the steering wheel so tight that my knuckles were turning white as I sat in my car in the parking. I was afraid that if I let go, I'd disappear. I don't know what I was afraid of, seeing Dr. Peters was going to help me. Seeing Dr. Peters was going to prevent me from slipping further into this mess. I took a deep breath and got out of the car.

Sitting in the waiting room was even worse than sitting in my car. There were other people here, people with problems. What was I saying? Everyone had problems.

Dr. Peters stuck her head out of her office. "Reba, come on in." she smiled.

I picked up my purse and held it close to my chest as I walked through the door. She closed it softly behind me.

"Take a seat; tell me what's goin' on."

I looked around and sighed. "I didn't think I'd ever have to come back here…" I trailed off. The couch hadn't moved, neither had her desk. It was all exactly the same.

Dr. Peters didn't say a word, she allowed me to delay talking to her, and for that I was grateful. I finally sat once I was sure I was able to look her in the eye and talk. I laid my purse on the floor at my feet.

"I don't know what's goin' on, I just—I don't feel like "Reba" anymore."

"Well, we'll just have to figure out why, won't we?"

"I hope so."

"Tell me then, Reba, how have you been feeling?"

I closed my eyes. "I—I—I don't really know. I mean, I just feel—well, I fell—" I paused. How did I feel? "Something's missing and I don't know what it is. Nothing changed, nothing happened for me to feel like this. I just do."

"Something's missing? Like what?"

"That's the thing, I don't know! I can feel myself slipping away and I'm just so afraid that I'm going to fall back into the hole I was in after Brock left me. I can't go there again…" my voice broke. "I'll never get back out."

Dr. Peters scrawled something across her clipboard then sat back. "Well, Reba, I want you to try something and then come back this same time next week and tell me what happens, alright? Can you do that?"

I hesitated. "Depends on what you're asking."

She reached over and gently touched my knee. "Just trust me on this."

"Can't you just write me a prescription instead?" I half joked.

She shook her head. "No. Okay. Reba, for the next week I want you to pay attention to everything that makes you happy. Everything that makes you smile, makes your heart warm, fills the void. Can you do that?"

I smiled lightly. "I can try."

"Good." she smiled. "Reba, remember not to push yourself to hard. You'll figure this out." She walked me to the door and opened it for me. "See you next week."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

I walked slowly out of the building and back to my car, thinking hard as I took hold of the door. Everything that made me happy? Well, how in the heck was I supposed to narrow that down? A lot of things made me happy. Like, my job, my kids, and especially my little granddaughter. I sunk into the driver's seat and pulled out of the parking lot. All the way home I didn't think of a single other thing.

This was going to be a long week.

I barely had a chance to open the front door before I heard Cheyenne's voice.

"Mom, there you are!" she exclaimed.

I glanced toward her where she sat on the couch at the opposite side of the couch from Van. "Cheyenne," I sighed. "I was gone for an hour."

"Yeah, I know. And you obviously don't know how to check your phone either. I called you like, eight times."

"How could you've possibly needed me in that length of time?" I cried. "Can't I have an hour to myself without being disturbed?" I sighed. It wasn't any use to argue it. It didn't matter what I did, what I said, what I asked, or how hard they tried, there was no way I was going to get _any _time to myself.

"We have a question." Van said.

I sat on the arm of one of the chairs and placed my hands on my knees. "It couldn't wait?"

"Well, we've been arguing over it for over an hour." He said."

"So, what's the problem?"

"Well," Cheyenne started, "I said three—"

"And I said four." Van interjected.

I looked up at the ceiling and exhaled. "Three and four what?"

Cheyenne looked at me confused. "Huh? Oh! The number of times married couples have sex each week!"

I rolled my eyes and looked up at the ceiling. "So, why are you asking me? I'm not married." I said.

"But, you were." Van grinned. "How many times a week did you and Mr. H have sex a week?"

"Oh, my God." I groaned and looked between the two of them as they waited eagerly for an answer. "Are you sure this is something you should be asking your mother-in-law? I'm sure this isn't something you want to know, Van." I chuckled.

"Mom, don't be silly! We're trying to settle this. Dad said he and Barbra Jean have sex at least twice a we—"

"Ahhh! No, I don't want to know about Brock and Barbra Jean's lovemaking!"

"Alright, alright! Just answer the question and we'll leave you alone!" Cheyenne exclaimed.

I got up and started to walk away.

"Mom! Tell us!"

"Please, Mrs. H? It's not that big of a deal!"

"You don't know the number yet…" I said under my breath.

"Mom, please?" Cheyenne pleaded.

I smirked to myself then turned around. "Average?" I asked and they nodded in unison. "Well, we weren't the average couple, Honey. We didn't let that honeymoon phase slip away from us."

"So, how many times a week?" She urged.

"Five." I said casually then ducked into the kitchen.

I could hear the silence as I walked further into the kitchen and I just knew they were looking at each other stunned.

"Five!" they exclaimed and stumbled into the kitchen after me.

"Yeah, about five times a week." I nodded.

"How?"

I laughed. "We fought. A lot."

Van snickered and turned away. "Bow chicka bow, bow."

Cheyenne I knew was internally cringing as she asked the next question. "So, out of the average five, how many times, would you say, makeup sex?"

I thought for a second. "Three, four times out of five, maybe."

Van piped up. "So, basically we can say that at least two of your three kids are the product of a fight."

"Van!" Cheyenne exclaimed. "Actually, for Kyra, that would make sense."

"Cheyenne… anyways, did that settle your argument or not?"

"Well, no, because now we have to go ask some other "average" couples." Cheyenne said as she walked out with Van on her heels.

"Whatever you do, don't ask Lori Ann!" I called with a laugh.

Oh, what a great way to come home from a very depressing therapist appointment.

For the remainder of the week I still couldn't come up with anything else that made me happy other than my kids, my granddaughter, and my job and it was driving me batty. There had to be something that made me happy that was missing from my life, it didn't make sense to have it all and still be feeling this way.

Like she'd requested, I was back in Dr. Peters' office the following week. This time a little less afraid and a lot more confused.

"Anything?" She asked after I took a seat on the couch.

"Nothin'." I replied.

"Well, here's your task this time. Stop searching for it. See you next week."

"Wait, what?" I asked.

"Yeah, same task, just stop looking. It'll come to you on its own."

She stood and waited for me to do the same.

"You're serious?"

"Yes, now go on home and don't look."

Well, I'd left her office even more confused that when I'd entered. Don't look for what I was supposed to look for? What kind of advice was that? She better not have charged me for that session. She should be paying me for having me wait in the waiting room for so long, is what she should do. At least I was back at work now, I had something to keep me busy and the open house today was certainly keeping me busy. I was showing a house to a young couple with a brand new baby, but not just a house, we were on the sixth of the day. I was exhausted, the wife was exhausted and the baby was getting fussy.

"Shhh." The mother cooed over and over to the screeching child.

I could see her beginning to fret and I knew her baby could sense it.

"May I?" I asked.

She backed up. "Oh, it's alright."

"Do you have kids?" the husband asked.

I smiled. "Three. And one has one of her own. I've had my fair share of quieting fussy babies, Darlin'. Pass me your baby." I repeated softly.

The woman exhaled and placed the tiny child into my arms.

"Hello, sweet angel." I cooed and walked with her across the living room bouncing her gently in my arms. "We've had a long day, haven't we?"

I looked up from the baby's tiny squealing face and into that of the mother's. There was no mistaking the relief that spread across it as her daughter began to calm down.

"There, see? You just gotta talk to 'em in a soothing voice—" I closed my eyes as the child wailed again. "Hey, now." I sat down in the rocking chair in the corner of the room and began humming. Not soon after, the baby fell asleep.

The husband looked at me in awe. "Thank you so much! That's the quietest she's been in six weeks."

Smiling, I handed the baby back to her mother who placed her in the carrier.

"Y'know, I think this is the house, Honey." The woman said to her husband. "I mean, seeing you put her to sleep like that really put everything in perspective for m."

"I think you're right." Her husband said. "I think we're ready to put in an offer."

She nodded.

"Great!" I exclaimed. "Forget about it for tonight and get that beautiful baby girl to bed. First thing tomorrow we'll settle on a price."

"Fantastic!" The woman exhaled.

Once I'd driven back to the office and gathered my paperwork I quickly realized how tired my feet were. I half limped to my car. The _one _day I decided to wear heels was the one day my clients decided to drag me all over Houston. I slipped into my car and hooked my heels off my feet and tossed them into the back seat then started the twenty minute commute home.

When I pulled into the driveway I could see all the lights on. Every single one, even the bedrooms. What was going on? I reached back over the seat and grabbed my shoes and got out of the car without bothering to put them back on. The cement of the walkway felt amazing on the sore soles of my feet. I could hear laughter inside the house before I even set foot on the porch and it made me smile. This is what I was used to. This is what I'd missed. I swung the front door open to find of my family huddled over the coffee table around a board game with the exception of Cheyenne, Henry and Elizabeth who were playing Go Fish on the floor. Henry looked up to see me and dropped his cards.

"Reba!" he exclaimed jumping up and running across the room to wrap his arms around my waist.

I crouched to his level and wrapped my arms around him as well. "Well, someone's happy I'm home! How are you?"

"Can you play go fish with Cheyenne, Elizabeth and I?"

Jake's head snapped up from the board game. "No, Henry! She's gotta play Monopoly. Mom, I'm losing, help me!" he exclaimed frantically.

"Jake." Brock scolded.

"Mom, please? Kyra's winning again and Dad's cheating."

Brock scoffed. "I am not!"

"You are so! You haven't paid for Boardwalk, St. James _or_ Electric Company!" Jake exclaimed.

Brock laughed. "Kids, don't you think your mother would like to come into the house and relax for a few minutes before you fight over her?"

Jake scoffed. "Stop trying to change the subject. You can't cheat, Dad. Mom, he can't cheat like that! It's not fair!"

Cheyenne waved Henry back over to their game of Go Fish and I set my things down on the chair and walked toward the Monopoly board.

"Well, cheating's something your Daddy's real good at." I said.

"Hey now." Brock piped up

I brushed him off. "Anyway. Brock, you're almost bankrupt, Van's loaded and Kyra's got almost all the properties." I observed. "Scoot over, Honey." I said to Jake, and knelt on the floor beside him. "What have you got?" I asked.

"Water Works." He grumbled.

"That's it?" He nodded angrily and glared at Kyra. "You bought all his properties away from him again, didn't you?" I asked.

"You betcha. Sucker!" She stuck her tongue out at him.

"Kyra, stop bring such a b—"

I elbowed him. "Alright, Honey. Let's see what I can do." I tossed the dice across the table. Double sixes.

Jake picked up his race car piece and moved it twelve spaces, which landed it on a Chance between a set of Kyra's properties which on top of each, sat a red hotel.

Kyra picked the top card off the pile and read it aloud. "Advance to Go, collect $200."

"Things are already lookin' up for me." Jake said as he took his $200 from the "bank."

"I should take your mother with me next time I go to the casino."

I snorted. "I'm through gambling, Brock. Every time I gambled, you somehow screwed it up."

"How so?"

Running my tongue over my teeth I smartly said, "I took a gamble on you when we walked down the aisle. And you left me."

"You're never gonna let me live that down, are you?"

"Nope."

"Didn't think so."

And so we played on.

"Mom, I'm gonna go put Elizabeth in her pajamas, okay?"

"Sure, Honey." I said dismissing her while I counted and re-counted the spaces Brock had just moved. "Cheat!" I exclaimed.

He looked up at me. "What?"

"You just moved eight spaces! You rolled a seven, you mo-ron!" I grabbed his piece and put it on the right space. "I don't think so."

He moved it ahead one space. "I did not!"

"Yes, you did! Look, you were on Indiana," I pointed to the board." Illinois, B&O Railroad, Atlantic, Ventnor, Water Works, Marvin Gardens, Jail, seven. One, to, three, four, five, six, seven. Not eight. Get to jail, ya cheater!"

"Alright, have it your way." He grumbled.

"Always puttin' you in your place, isn't she, Mr. H?" Van laughed.

Kyra cleared her throat. "Well, that's all the properties." She said. "Now, when someone goes bankrupt we'll stop and count up."

"Sounds good. We've been playing for hours." Brock laughed.

We continued to play, stopping only when Jake burst out into laughter. "Kyra's bankrupt! Ha! That's what you get!"

She shoved all her properties at him. "Yeah, whatever. Mom wins. She always wins. You know it, I know it, Dad and Van know it. Game over."

"Awe, come on, Kyra. Don't feel bad. You'll win sometime." Van said.

She scoffed. "Yeah, when Mom's long gone. I'm going to bed."

I smirked. "Goodnight, Honey."

"Whatever." She said, but rubbed my shoulder with a smile as she got up.

"See?" Jake beamed. "I told you guys Mom was awesome at this game."

"She's a real estate agent, she should be." Van said.

"It has nothing to do with real estate, Van. It's about strategy. And yours, by the way, is awful."

"Hey!"

"It was, Van. It really was." Brock said.

"Oh, because yours was so much better." I laughed.

"Whatever!" Brock exclaimed. "Henry, didn't you have something you wanted to do?" Brock asked.

He looked confused for a moment, then his face lit up and he dashed into the kitchen.

"What is he—"

"Reba, I have a present for you!" He said running back into the living room with a small box.

"For me?" I exclaimed. "You didn't have to do that, babe."

"I know, but I wanted to. This is for you." He said placing the box before me as he sat down beside me.

I looked at Brock who was simply smiling at the box in my hands. The lid was held by a single green ribbon. I took the end between my fingers and the bow came undone. Lifting the lid I smiled down at a small brown beanie baby. Reaching into the box I took out the bear.

"Oh, Henry. It's adorable!"

He smiled. "Her name is Sheba. I liked it 'cause it rhymed with Reba." He reached for the bear and opened the swing tag.

I read it aloud. "With great poise and elegance, style and flair and fashion sense. Such luxuries you'll surely see if you would only cuddle me!"

"It reminded me of you because I like your style."

My eyes were tearing up. I laughed and pulled the small boy beside me into my arms. "Thank you." I said.

"Alright, Kiddo," Brock said.

"Awe, Dad. Do we have to go? Can't we stay a little longer?"

Elizabeth came over and pulled herself up on Brock's knee. "Please, Grandpa? Will you stay?" She asked and batted her eyelashes.

I shook my head with a smile. She was just like Cheyenne.

"Stay, Brock. For a little while." I heard myself say.

"A little while. Now go play." Brock said.

"Yay!" Elizabeth and Henry cheered as they bounded up over the stairs.

"Kids, be careful!" Cheyenne cried.

I set the bear on the coffee table.

"He's been looking for the "right bear" for months. He seemed to like that one best." Brock said.

"That was so cute. "I like your style." Van imitated.

"Yeah." I chuckled. "Where's Barbra Jean?" I asked. Beanie babies were her thing. She had to've helped him pick this out.

Brock tipped his head toward the kitchen and I followed.

I was confused. "Is Barbra Jean alright?" I asked.

"She's fine. A better question would be: are you alright?"

Even more confused now. "Of course I'm alright. Why wouldn't I be alright?" I asked and rounded the island.

He sighed and sat on one of the bar stools. "Reba, I've known you long enough to know that something's not right. Barbra Jean knows it too. That's why she's not here. She can't bear to see you like this."

"Like this? What is "this" exactly?"

"Depressed!" He cried.

I backed away from him. How? How did he know?

"Depressed?" I laughed. "I'm not depressed. Why would you say that?"

"Reba, I've been there. I know what it's like. You've been there before too, remember?"

"Of course I remember. Brock, how could I forget? It was right after we separated." He gave me a knowing look and I sighed. "I know, I know. I can't lie to you. Yes, or, I think. I don't know if I am again or not. There's no reason for it, but—" I ran my hands through my hair. "I just... don't know."

I didn't realize that my eyes were tearing up until he got up and came around the counter.

"Hey." He said opening his arms.

I walked into his embrace and laid my hands on his chest. He wrapped his arms around me and I exhaled into his shoulder. "I can't do this again."

"You don't have to. You've got support this time around."

I pulled away. "It's not that easy, Brock."

"Why isn't it?"

"Because all the support in the world isn't gonna help me find it."

"It? Find what?"

"That's just it. I don't know. Something's missing. Dr. Peters told me to stop looking so hard because it'll come to me, but it hasn't."

"Wait, back up a minute. Dr. Peters? So you are getting treatment?"

"More like advice." I grumbled.

"When did you set this up?"

"Two weeks ago. When it was really bad. I had to do something. I couldn't let the kids see me like that. She told me to find the things that make me happy."

"And?"

"So far all I've got is the kids and my job. I love my job. And you know what I just realized?" I asked.

"What?"

"That little boy upstairs. He came about under the wrong circumstances, but I love him. So much."

"And he loves you. Like a mother, Reba. You're all he ever talks about."

I smiled.

"See, he makes you smile too."

"He does. He really does."


End file.
